Locksher led them a short distance from the rest of the camp and had them lay down their burdens. The living specimen’s eyes glowed a dull green. The dead one’s eyes were not lit, but Fist saw that they had once been green as well.
“Ah! Good job,” Locksher said. He donned his brightly colored scarf and set up a small stand. He placed a light orb on the stand to illuminate the area. He looked the beasts over in the orb’s soft glow. “These shall do nicely.”
“We jumped on a pack of ‘em,” Maryanne announced.
“We didn’t jump,” Lyramoor grumbled. “You shot them.”
“Right,” she said. “It was fun.”
“I hope it’s alright, Locksher,” Qenzic said, still breathing heavily from carrying the heavy beast back to the camp. “You only wanted two, but she killed probably six of them.”
“You only said to bring one alive,” Maryanne said defensively. “I had to kill the rest of the nasty things. They ain’t right. Something’s wrong with ‘em.”
Locksher was kneeling next to the dead one and examining the single small wound between two of its ribs, A heart shot. He gave her an appreciative look. “Tell me, did all of them have green eyes?”
“The pack I killed did,” Maryanne said.
“I saw some others through the trees,” Qenzic said. “They had green eyes too.”
“Interesting. No yellow eyes . . .” the wizard said. “You two had better go retrieve the other ones she killed.”
The two warriors shared exasperated looks. “Are you sure you need them?”
“It never hurts to have more specimens,” the wizard replied. “A broader sample size is best.”
“But . . . They’re heavy,” Lyramoor complained.
“Take the giant with you,” he said with an absent gesture.
They glanced back at the camp and at Charz’s sleeping figure. Neither of them looked excited about approaching the giant and Fist didn’t blame them. It would still be a few hours before daylight and Charz would not take kindly to being woken again.
“I’ll go with you,” he decided. Qenzic gave him a grateful look and Fist shrugged. “I’m not going back to sleep tonight anyway.”
“I suppose that’s fine,” the wizard said, stopping what he was doing long enough to make some notes. “Maryanne, I’ll have to ask you to make sure that none of the ogres come too close to my work. I don’t know how powerful the magic in the beasts is. We don’t need them affected by it.”
“I guess,” she said with a sigh, sitting down cross-legged not far from the wizard. She pulled out a whetstone from a pouch at her waist and began sharpening her knives.
I stay with Puj, Squirrel announced. She had laid back down and he had disappeared into her furs with her where it was nice and warm.
Going to sleep, you mean, Fist replied.
While you not dreaming, Squirrel agreed.
Fist turned to go, but Locksher stopped him. “Fist, it is important that I complete a full study and I can’t do it from horseback. We will need to stay at this site all day tomorrow.”
“Right,” Fist said. It was a decent campsite, close to water, but he doubted that the ogres would want to stay there after the scares that night. “I’ll talk to Crag in the morning.”
It took Fist and the two academy warriors almost two hours to retrieve the rest of the moonrat bodies and haul them back. By the time they dropped them off with Locksher, the sky had started to brighten with the first of morning light.
Fist was about to ask Locksher if he could help when he received a panicked message. Fist! Come! Squirrel sent him an image of Beard and Glug confronting Puj. The two ogres had grabbed her arms and were trying to drag her away.
Fist let out a shout and ran towards the camp, but he could tell by the direction of the bond that Squirrel and Puj weren’t there. The ogress had gone a short distance away to urinate and Burl’s friends had followed her. Shouts rang out from that direction and Fist ran on.
He arrived just in time to see Crag throw a mighty punch that sent Glug sprawling. The chieftain had arrived there first and Burl was with him. Fist’s half brother had a fistful of Beard’s red hair and was holding his sword to the short ogre’s neck. Puj was standing close by, rubbing her arms. Squirrel was standing on her shoulder, patting her face gently.
“Sorry, Chief!” cried Glug as he tried to stand, blood streaming from his nose. Crag had not held back and the ogre was struggling to keep his balance.
Crag sent a mighty kick into Glug’s chest, knocking the ogre back down. “I telled you to leave Fist’s tribe alone!”
“We was just . . . stealing her back,” Glug wheezed. “For our tribe! It was Beard’s idea!”
“The Thunder People do not steal from Fist’s tribe!” Crag cried, sending another heavy kick into the fallen ogre’s abdomen. “I am chief! I gived her to him!”
“Puj, are you hurt?” Fist asked, coming to her side.
She shook her head, hiding her bruised arms behind her back. “Skirl tried to help, but Stinky Chief comed.”
They are strong, but I am fast, Squirrel said.
Fist looked at Beard and saw several scratches on his face. He gave Burl a grateful nod and approached his father. The chief kicked Glug again, causing the ogre to wheeze in pain. “Thank you for helping, Crag.”
Crag’s face was full of rage and embarrassment. “The Thunder People is sorry. Do you want to kill him?”
Fist grit his teeth and looked down at the groaning ogre. He was tempted. But what would it accomplish? Glug was brutish, but not more so than other ogres. He was just stupid. A follower. Fist found himself turning to look at Beard. There was defiance in the shorter ogre’s eyes.
“No. Not him.” Fist walked up to Beard. “Why do you do this? Why won’t you leave Puj alone?”
Beard glared at him. “I want her.”
“She is not yours,” Fist growled.
“She refused me!” Beard said. “She said no to my right as a men!”
“You have no rights!” Fist could feel his power build within him. Unbidden, a ripple of electricity sparked across his skin. He had a strong desire to blast the ogre with a bolt of lightning.
Beard saw the electricity but refused to back down. “I challenge you! I will fight you for Puj!”
Chapter Seventeen
Burl shook his head and pressed his sword tighter against his friend’s neck. “Shut up, Beard.”
Crag laughed. “You? Fight Fist? He will kill you with magics!”
Beard pointed at the ogre mage. The electricity was still crackling along Fist’s skin. “I will fight him! But no magics and no metal skins or weapons.”
Do it, Squirrel said, his little mind full of anger. Fight him.
Crag shook his head dismissively. “You would challenge a ogre mage and tell him not to use his strength?”
“Yes!” barked Beard. “I will fight him for Puj. Ogre fist to ogre fist!”
“Shut up little one!” said Crag, jabbing at Beard’s chest with two thick fingers. “Who is you to ask this thing? You is a good warrior, but your status is little. You is a child, Little Beard!”
The flurry of insults from his chief caused Beard’s face to redden. He hadn’t been called Little Beard in a long time. Crag was putting him in his place. If he argued back, he was close to challenging the chief.
Fist understood what was happening. Crag was goading him intentionally. If Beard challenged the chief, Fist wouldn’t have to fight him. Rebellions against the chieftain required a fight to the death. Beard would be gone and Puj’s problems would be solved. Fist found himself oddly touched by the gesture.
“I want Puj!” Beard shouted, refusing to back down. “I will fight Fist for her. I will prove I am no child!”
They were gaining an audience. The other ogres that were awake had heard the commotion and were gathering around. Beard’s announcement was causing rumblings in the crowd.
“I do not want you any more!” yelled Puj. “Go away!
I am Big Fist’s now!”
Fight him, Squirrel demanded, jumping up to Fist’s shoulder and smacking him in the ear.
Beard barked back at Puj. “I will have you! I will show you how strong I am. Then you will not say no to me again!”
“No!” she shouted back. “I do not like Beard! I do not want Beard anymore!”
Fight him! Squirrel said again, his emotions echoed by the crowd as they watched Fist expectantly.
Fist’s jaw was clenched. He wanted to do as Squirrel asked. Beard was the ogre behind Puj’s injuries. He deserved to be beaten. The other ogres knew it. The only thing holding Fist back was Puj. She would see this fight as Fist declaring his intention to take her as a mate.
“Toompa!” shouted Crag. The sound of that word coming from his lips jolted Fist. He had heard it too often in his memories and dreams. But this time the insult was not directed at him. “I telled you no, Little Beard!”
The crowd gasped. If Beard said one more word of defiance, it would be a direct challenge to his chief. He would have to fight Crag.
Beard’s face was pinched with rage and frustration. The wily chief had pinned him down. There was little choice left for him now, he either had to back away or face off against a legend.
For a moment it seemed as if Crag’s plan had worked. Beard’s gaze dropped. His shoulders slumped. Then his eyes moved back to Puj and the hunger overtook him again. He looked back at Crag with a calculating gaze. A sneer formed on his lips.
Fist knew what he was thinking. Crag was old. It was true that he was a legend, but Beard was young. Fist had nearly beat him, after all. What if Beard could? If the ogre fought the chief and killed him, he could take control of the tribe. Beard opened his mouth, but Fist didn’t let him speak.
“I will fight!” Fist shouted. It was probably an unnecessary gesture. The likelihood of Beard beating Crag was slim, but what if he got lucky somehow? Fist couldn’t bear that possibility. Besides, before leaving his people, Fist had been the best warrior in the Thunder People tribe. Despite what the other ogres chose to remember, he had beaten his father. Beard was little threat.
The shorter ogre smiled.
Crag gave Fist a look of surprise. “You will do this, Fist?”
“I will fight him with my own hands. No magic. No weapons or armor,” he verified. Puj came up and linked her arm through his, sending a jeering smile Beard’s way. Fist knew that he would just have to deal with her soon. “I do not need those things to fight Little Beard.”
The ogres roared in approval. Crag laughed and nodded, happy with Fist’s choice. This was the warrior son he remembered. “Good! We will prepare the tribal battle circle!” The ogres roared again and he pointed to Burl. “You bring Glug.”
Burl dropped the sword from his friend’s neck. Beard shoved past him with a growl, then joined the others heading back towards the camp. Shaking his head, Burl sheathed his rusty sword and stomped over to where his second friend lay wheezing on the cold ground.
“Stupid,” he grumbled as he grabbed Glug’s hand. “Get up! I telled you and Beard to leave her alone.” Glug said nothing, but winced as Burl helped him stand. Glug leaned on his friend’s arm, avoiding looking at Fist and Puj.
“Burl,” Fist said, ignoring the way Puj was rubbing her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for helping.”
Fist’s half brother shrugged. “I follow my chief.”
Fist watched the two ogre men head back towards the camp, then pulled from Puj’s grasp and shoved her out at arm’s length. “Why did this happen?”
Puj seemed confused. “I was peeing and they comed and grabbed me.”
“Not this morning. All of it,” Fist said. “I am about to fight Beard and I want to know everything you wouldn’t tell me before.”
What are you doing? Squirrel wondered.
Learning, Fist replied.
She blinked at him. “Wh-what?”
“Those two have been hurting you for awhile now. When did it start?” he asked, keeping his voice firm to show that he expected true answers.
“Beard . . . always liked me. Since I comed to the Thunder People, he would always fight for me,” she said. “He was nice. He only hitted me when I sayed no to him.”
“And Glug?” Fist asked.
She frowned. “Do I have to tell this?”
“I need to know so that I can help you,” Fist said. “You are in my tribe now.”
Puj sighed, but gave him a reluctant nod. “Glug is Beard’s friend. He likes me too. He sometimes grabs me hard,” she said, unconsciously fingering the bruises on her arms. “But he does not hit me. He just laughs when Beard does.”
Kill them, Squirrel decided.
Fist echoed the sentiment. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just kill them. Not unless there was no other way. “I have one more question I need to ask you.”
“One more?” She pouted. “Okay.”
“If you knew they liked to hurt you, why did you go to them?” Fist asked.
“I did not!” She scoffed. “I just went pee and they got me!”
“I’m not talking about this morning,” Fist said again. “Three other times during this journey they hurt you. Once when we stayed by that pond in the forest, once at the forest’s edge when I had to heal your face, and once the day I accepted you into the tribe.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she said nothing.
Fist pressed on. “All three of those times, you snuck away from the camp in the morning and came back hurt. Why did you go out to them? Didn’t you know they would hurt you?”
She looked down, “You is right. It was my fault.”
Fist, stop, Squirrel said reproachfully.
“I’m not saying it was your fault,” Fist said. He reached out and lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. “I just want to know why.”
“I . . .” Her lip quivered. “I liked Beard. When we was in our territory, he only hurt me a little. It was a game. Then when we comed to find you . . . he did not want me to be with you. I-I telled him to stop. I telled him to leave me alone, but . . . and I-.” Puj swallowed and straightened up, pulling away from his hand. Her tone became accusatory. “I was not in your tribe yet. You did not want me. I is a ogre women. Beard is a ogre warrior. He telled me to come talk to him and I goed.”
Fist flinched at the hardness in her voice, but nodded. He accepted some fault in what had happened. “No more. You are a member of the Big and Little People tribe. You don’t have to obey ogre warriors anymore. Not even me.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t?”
“No! I am not your chief. The Big and Little People have no ogre chieftain to rule us. We are a family,” Fist said. “I know this is a hard word to understand. It was hard for me, too. It means we take care of each other. We protect each other. We fight together.”
“Me? Fight?” she said.
“Yes!” he said. “If any person, male or female, tries to hurt you, you fight! If you need us, we will fight with you.”
Yes! Squirrel said, jumping to her shoulder. She didn’t completely understand the concept yet, but a slight smile curved her lips.
“That is why I am fighting Beard today,” Fist said. “I don’t do it to increase my status. I don’t fight because I want to mate with you. I fight because you are in my tribe and Beard hurt you.” Puj’s smile broadened.
“Fist!” Rub ran through the trees towards them. “Why is you here? Beard is over there. We is waiting.”
“I’m coming,” Fist said.
He followed Rub back to camp, Puj and Squirrel trailing behind him. Fist could hear a low rumble of voices. His name was being chanted over and over again.
The Thunder People were standing in a wide circle, forming the arena. The ground inside the circle was flat and had been cleared away of all debris including sticks or rocks. The ogres wouldn’t let either of them leave until one of them was unconscious or gave up. Fist was planning to end it quickly.
Maryanne saw Fist approach the
circle and jogged up to him. “What’s going on?”
“Fist is going to fight Beard,” announced Charz. The giant was standing in the circle with the ogres. He had been wakened by the commotion, but he didn’t seem too perturbed about it. Not once he found out the reason why.
“Oh?” the gnome said.
“He attacked Puj again,” Fist explained.
She arched an eyebrow in response. “Then you plan to kill him, right?”
“Of course,” Charz said with a laugh and Squirrel nodded in agreement.
“No,” Fist said, frowning at them. “But this fight will end it. By ogre rules, the result of the fight is final. He won’t hurt Puj again.”
“Oh,” the gnome said. She shrugged and leaned up against the giant, placing a forearm on his shoulder. “It should be fun to watch at least.”
“Yeah,” Charz agreed. “Where’s Lyramoor and Qenzic at?”
“They went to scout the route ahead,” Maryanne explained. “There’s a village to the northeast they want to check in with.”
“Too bad. The elf’d love this.” Charz said.
Fist edged past Charz to enter the circle. Beard was inside waiting. He grinned at Fist confidently as he hopped from foot to foot. The ogre had stripped off all of his furs except for his waist wraps so that he could show off his bulging muscles. Fist had to admit that he was impressed. Beard’s body had changed quite a bit since he had left the tribe. Beard was only six and a half feet tall, but had a wide and stocky frame for an ogre, very little of which was fat. It was a warrior’s physique.
“Be careful,” Puj said. “He likes to choke and he likes to bite.”
“I will remember that,” Fist said.
He stepped through the crowd to face Beard and a grin of his own formed on his face. It had been a long time since he had faced off against another ogre like this. “I used to fight in the circle all the time,” he told Beard. “Remember? I never lost. You were afraid to fight me.”
The Ogre Apprentice Page 29
